


My Bounty is as Boundless as the Sea

by Flamingbluepanda



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff, Gratuitious shakespeare quotes, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Introspection, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Loves Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Romance, SO MUCH FLUFF, Shakespeare Quotations, TSA agents, literally just two thousand words of nicky thinking about how beautiful Joe is, the inherant romanticism of pissing off the TSA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26883925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamingbluepanda/pseuds/Flamingbluepanda
Summary: Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night(Airports, Wine, Hotels, and Nicky thinking about how much he loves Joe)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 234





	My Bounty is as Boundless as the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is... i dont even know, my brain wouldn't let me go to sleep last night until I wrote everything before the first page break and then i spat out the rest of this today. Im very tired and its about time i wrote something purely fluffy for this fandom
> 
> betaed by the amazing FoggyDevil, thank you so much!
> 
> dedicated to the bard himself, since an improbable amount of his words ended up in this fic

There are, Nicky thinks, very few things he loves more in this world than Joe’s hair and beard. 

When he had first left for Jerusalem, he had met five, maybe six people with hair as curly as Joe’s. The first time they’d well and truly met, Joe’s hair had been matted with sweat and blood and dirt, plastered against his skin. It had remained that way every time he saw him — while Joe assures him that amongst the Muslim camps it was common practice to wash daily, Nicky never actually ventured into them during the crusades. So every time he saw Joe he was filthy, and unkempt, and  _ gorgeous,  _ even if Nicky was too consumed by pointless hatred to see it.

He’d been forced to acknowledge it the weeks after they walked off the battlefield together. He’d woken on their first day staying in an actual inn to find Joe performing  _ wudū _ , bending over to scrub water out of his hair and into a bucket. 

It had been so long then, and when Joe had pushed it over his shoulder droplets had rolled off of it, running down his back in rivulets that Nicky was not yet permitted to chase with his tongue. 

(Not that he would when Joe was in the middle of his prayer practices, but that’s beside the point.)

Joe’s beard never went through phases the way his hair did- if given the choice, Joe kept it neatly trimmed as per his traditions, just long enough to be soft instead of scratchy. He would shave for missions, occasionally, but it would be stubbled again within hours. 

He took great pride in both his curls and beard, always taking extra steps to ensure they were well cared for. He wasn’t frivolous -- he’d never quite shaken off being a merchant’s son, always looking for a bargain. But he bought finer beard oils than strictly necessary and conditioner made for curly hair. 

“It’s to preserve your cheeks,  _ amore mio,”  _ Joe would tease, “goodness knows I would hate for you to get a beard burn from kissing me.” 

“The scrape of your beard against me,” Nicky would always reply with as much seriousness as he could muster at the time, “is the best part.” 

It always made Joe laugh. That wide, pink mouth was gorgeous in joy — wide, showing the teeth, just  _ begging  _ for a kiss. 

Nicky supposed he was biased because he also thought he was gorgeous in sadness — the creases on Joe’s proud forehead were indicators of where Nicky needed to soothe his husband, and the way those sharp teeth chewed his bottom lip in anxiety was an unfair tease in a dire circumstance. 

Such as right now, in fact. 

“I’m really, really sorry.” Copley shook his head over the video call, “I can’t find anything else. With the current pandemic-“

“Country’s locked tight, we know.” Joe sighed. “Thanks anyway, James.” 

He clicked the mouse to end the call, sitting back in his chair. 

“This is what we get for coming to America,” Nicky sighed, and Joe hummed in agreement. “Worth it though, for how Nile is gonna react.”

Nile’s birthday was a week ago, and Nicky and Joe had ventured to America while Andy distracted her to fetch her present- a recording of Nile’s mother and brother, ostensibly for an article they were writing about marines who were killed in action.

Only now, they were trapped.

An upshoot in cases along with threats against the president had the country locked up tight, with only commercial flights going in and out. Copley had managed to get them on one but…

“I don’t get it,” Nile had asked two months ago, in the midst of boarding a train, “why do we only ever fly air drug runner?”

“Other than us needing to avoid security cameras?” Joe had responded, “I don’t actually have the best track records with airports. Or TSA agents.” 

“Oh,” Nile had nodded, “right. Racism. Fuck that shit.” 

Nicky loved Nile with all his heart, and that was why he was going to get on that awful plane and give her the best goddamn present ever.

“I’ll go shave,” Joe sighed mournfully. “It won’t help much but,”

“So don’t do it,” Nicky kissed his forehead. “You don’t  _ have to.” _

“I don’t feel like getting pulled out of line today,” Joe drawled, looking world-weary and exhausted. “If shaving and having short hair makes me look more Americanized…”

Unable to bear his husband’s sadness, Nicky slid into his lap. 

“My love,” he kissed Joe on the nose, dragging his lips down along his cheekbones. “My heart.”

“Nicky,” Joe sighed, all mint toothpaste and shampoo that smelled like apples. Nicky rubbed his nose against Joe’s, humming.

_ “Dammi un bacio,”  _ Nicky demanded, and Joe chuckled, holding him closer. “Pushy.”

“Yusuf,” Nicky whined, dragging out the second vowel sound and trying not to smile.  _ “Dammi un bacio.”  _

Joe laughed louder this time, giving him the kiss he was so demanding. A thousand years and Joe’s kisses still could make Nicky’s brain short out, make him feel inebriated quicker than any intoxicant, and give him wings to fly, all in one simple act. 

_ Made for me,  _ Nicky thinks fondly,  _ this man was made to kiss me.  _

They fit together. Nicky knew exactly how far to twist his head to avoid bashing their noses together. The cup of Yusuf’s palm matched perfectly with the curve of Nicky’s jaw. 

This is where he was meant to be. More than the field of battle or the church -- right here, in a shitty American motel, kissing Joe forever and forever. 

* * *

Yusuf’s face looked strangely younger when bared. Not to say that he had fewer wrinkles or that the pockmarks on his cheeks faded, but without his beard, he looked like someone in their early twenties, as opposed to his mid-thirties.

It was easy to imagine, sometimes, that they were the ages they looked. That Nicky had met Joe in a museum or a cafe somewhere in Europe and they had looked at one another across a room and fallen in love instantly.

And Nicky was certain -- had he met Joe anywhere other than the field of battle, he would’ve known immediately. His very soul would’ve seen Joe’s and writhed in Nicky’s chest, screaming “that one! That one is my other half!”

But they had not met in a smoky cafe over cups of coffee and they hadn’t locked eyes across a museum, and they weren’t in their thirties and Nicky wouldn’t trade their story for any other possible scenario in the universe. 

Even if it meant braving American airports.

Nicky always stayed two steps behind Joe in situations like this, ready to cause a scene or commit a silent murder if needed. In addition to shaving clean, Joe cut his hair close to his head, buzzing it to stubble at the base of his neck. He had a hat on and was trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

But Nicky recognized the look of the woman holding the passport, and he watched as Joe’s shoulders went taunt. 

Swallowing back his anger, Nicky plastered on a large smile and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Joe’s left bicep and widening his eyes. 

“Is something  _ wrong  _ here officer?” Nicky asked loudly, making some bystanders glance their way. The TSA agent shifted awkwardly, looking at Joe, and then the fake passport in her hand. “I’m sorry sir, but you’ll need to wait your turn-”

“Oh, sorry ma’am, it’s just that my husband looked concerned, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Nicky leaned forward, grinning conspiratorially. “We’re going on our honeymoon. Rome, isn’t that  _ romantic?” _

Joe was biting back a smile, tucking Nicky neatly against his side. “Please, officer, we don’t want to miss our flight.”

People were staring now, a group of young people even had their phones out, ready to jump in should the TSA agent pull Joe out of line unnecessarily. 

The TSA officer gave them a tight smile and handed Joe his boarding pass. “Have a great flight, Mr. Gharbi.”

“It’s Gharbi-Reggano,” Joe beamed at her, looking as soppy and in love as possible. Nicky giggled and handed her his own fake passport. “We hyphenated.”

As they walked away, tickets in hand, Joe playfully groped Nicky’s ass, leaning down to mutter “I think you had fun teasing that poor woman.”

“Me? Never.” Nicky replied, then leaned up to kiss the corner of Joe’s mouth. They stopped walking just so Nicky could kiss along the smooth line of Joe’s jaw, the space between his lower lip and his chin, the tip of his nose.

“I think you’re having fun teasing  _ me  _ too,” Joe grumbled, and Nicky laughed, giving Joe a lazy kiss on the lips, knowing full well that the entire airport was probably staring at them. As they should be, Joe was a shining star and Nicky was proud to bask in his glow.

But for all his romantic posturing, Joe was a private person at heart. So he pulled away, smiled, and tangled his hand with Nicky’s. “Come now Mr. Gharbi-Reggano, we have a ten-hour flight to catch.”

Nicky sighed, nodding. Copley hadn’t even gotten them in first class.

* * *

Planes were over a hundred years old, but to Nicky, they were still unbearably new and positively terrifying. For all of Nile’s jokes about them being old, Nicky never quite enjoyed the sensation of rising higher than any human was ever meant to.

Joe, of course, was fascinated by most modern machinery. He was the one in their group who knew how to repair a car, and while they all knew how to operate planes and helicopters Joe was the one who kept up with what went into making them. 

Thus, Joe took the window seat, fiddling with the air conditioning to enjoy the feeling of air on the parts of his face usually covered by whiskers. Nicky, on the other hand, asked every flight attendant who passed for a glass of wine. Usually, on long flights, he’d just sleep, but he felt restless, and their short stay in America had given him no time to reset his internal clock.

It was one of those funny things about immortality- Jetlag rarely affected them, so Nicky had slept earlier that day. 

This, obviously, resulted in Nicky leaned in close to Joe, giggling and nuzzling his face into the five o’clock shadow blooming on his cheek. Joe had an arm around his shoulders, and a smile so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way Nicky  _ adored. _

He always knew when Joe was truly happy when he saw Joe’s crows feet and laughter lines, carved deep into his face by a childhood of joy. He leaned up in an attempt to kiss them, but ended up poking Joe in the eye with his nose.

“Ow,” Joe whispered, voice bemused. Nicky nuzzled his cheeks some more, giving butterfly kisses as he went.

“Yusuf-” Nicky hiccupped, “Yusuf  _ dammi un bacino.” _

“Again?” Joe hummed, kissing Nicky on the forehead, “someone’s demanding today.”

Nicky whined, tilting his head up to encourage Joe to kiss him more.  _ “Dammi i miei bacini.” _

“Oh, they're  _ your  _ kisses now, I see.” Joe laughed and kissed both of Nicky’s burning cheeks, then his temple, then his chin. 

Nicky pouted. “You’re so… so rude.”

“Rude?!” Joe gasped in mock offense, “You asked me for kisses and now I’m giving them, how am I rude?”

“You won’t kiss me on my…” Nicky frowned, the word in English suddenly escaping him  _ “le mie labbra.” _

“Your gorgeous lips?” Joe smiled, leaning forward to rub his nose against Nicky’s. “Ah, but you asked for  _ bacini,  _ my darling. I am merely following your directions.”

_ “Yusuf,”  _ Nicky whined, chasing his husband’s mouth  _ “dammi un bacio” _

Joe chuckled and kissed him firmly on the mouth, then pulled back and tucked Nicky’s head against his shoulder, resting his cheek against Nicky’s hair. “Sleep,  _ nur hayati,  _ and know that I adore you more than the moon adores the stars.”

* * *

The closest Copley could get them to the polish safe house where they were staying was Stockholm, so Joe and Nicky got a hotel and rented a car the next morning to drive back to the girls and give Nile her present- a month late, but Nicky had a feeling she’d appreciate it. 

Nicky gratefully laid in bed and watched as Joe moisturized his cheeks, making sure the stubble wouldn't itch and bother him while driving. He sighed, warm and sated and in love. Joe glanced over at him with a smile. “You look like the cat that got the cream.”

“I love you,” Nicky said, sitting up as Joe came over and Nicky pulled on his t-shirt until Joe bent at the waist and Nicky could kiss him. “I adore you. I worship at your feet and bless the ground on which you stand.”

“Nicky-” Joe started, but Nicky dragged him fully onto the bed, laying so Joe was on top of him. 

“Every blessed inch of you,” Nicky muttered, pressing his face into Joe’s shoulder, “from the arch of your foot to the bridge of your nose. Every molecule of you is as vital to me as breathing.”

_ “Nicolo,”  _ Joe said, and Nicky didn’t need to look to know he was blushing. 

Nicky pulled back, smirking at Joe. “Oh, you do not like my words? My husband, the bashful poet.”

“We have to get  _ dressed,”  _ Joe insisted, smiling that crinkly eyed smile again. Nicky hummed. “If you don’t want my words... O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

Joe laughed, leaning down to brush his nose against Nicky’s. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.”

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,” Nicky breathed, kissing him again. Joe’s giggles were audible, even as they kissed, so Nicky pulled back and continued “thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.” 

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took?” Joe fluttered his eyelashes, probably hoping to make Nicky laugh. But the sunlight caught what was left of Joe’s hair, making him look like an angel.

With the utmost seriousness, Nicky whispered. “Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again.”

Joe gazed at him like Nicky had hung the stars. Nicky would do anything for that look. He would destroy this vile, awful world and build it anew for a ghost of Joe’s smile, would leave everyone to burn to dust for a single kiss from those lips.

Another quote ran through his mind, far from the bard but no less apt. 

_ I want people to tell their children terrifying stories about the things we did for love,  _ Nicky thought aimlessly, but then Joe kissed him again, and Nicky was flying high above his body, as pure as perfect sunlight. 

* * *

In the car, later, Nicky glanced in the mirror on his sun visor and mourned the fact that he didn’t have the red marks from Joe’s stubble.    


“Someday,” Joe said, reaching for his hand. Nicky glanced at him curiously, and Joe tore his eyes away from the road. “Don’t you know? That’s how we’ll find out we’re mortal. Someday, I’ll kiss you, and the redness won’t fade. Or you’ll wake up to find my shoulders scratched up from where you dig into them when we make love. We’ll ache in the best way, ache for days, and the others will tease us about it for the rest of our lives.”

“We’ll go to Malta,” Nicky smiled, “and adopt a kid-”

“Multiple kids,” Joe corrected bluntly. “At least seven, maybe eight. And two cats and a dog.”

“I’ll bake bread for the market while you drive our absolute _ horde _ of children to school,” Nicky laughed, and Joe squeezed his hand. “It’ll be perfect. Just like us.”

“Yes,” Nicky smiled at him. “Just like us.”

  
  
  
  


(and against all odds, it was.)

**Author's Note:**

> "Dammi un bacio" is "gimmie a kiss" in italian, and a bacino is a small, playful kiss pressed to a cheek or chin or forehead, according to my beta
> 
> All of shakespeares words belong to him, and the quote about doing terrifying things for love is by Emily Horne. 
> 
> My tumblr is, as always, www.flamingbluepanda.tumblr.com
> 
> Bye! I love you!


End file.
